


The Proposal

by Phantomfluffandstuff



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: A teaspoon of angst, Also Some Humor, Bordering on the Verge of Disgustingly Fluffy, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Kisses, Marriage Proposal, Re-edited, Rings, Romance, Semblance of a Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7065619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomfluffandstuff/pseuds/Phantomfluffandstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Erik proposes to Christine. </p>
<p>Shameless fluffy fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I was planning on keeping this one to myself but then, I figured, "Eh, may as well."  
> Originally, this was also born out of my desire to use French terms of endearment in a fic. My desire is now satisfied.
> 
> Oh, and if any of you were wondering, I do plan to continue with that Music of the Night fic. I'm very sorry for the wait but hopefully the next chapter will be up soon, as it's summer now.
> 
>  
> 
> _Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. It belongs to M. Leroux and Mr. Lloyd Webber, respectively._

“Christine… I… I have something I need to ask you.” 

“What is it, my darling?” Christine asked, glancing up from her book. 

Erik paused while his mind took in the situation, analyzing it for the thousandth time. What if she said no? He did not know if he could bare losing her again. She was the last thing tying him to reality, to life. If he lost her again, he would spiral into darkness for good without her light to lead him out of it. This was the key to his problems! If she would be his, then he need never doubt her again. 

But, even more terrifying, what if she said yes? What if she _let_ him have her for the rest of her days? What if she actually gave him her light, of her own free will, to guide him until the end of his accursed life? What if she entrusted her fragile heart to his own monstrous self? Could he bear that responsibility? Could he be enough for her and provide her with real love and a happy life? It sounded like nothing more than a fantasy, something that could never come true. But what if… What if it did? Erik was not sure what he would do then. All his dreams would come true, all the dreams he never thought possible, and he would be left with a woman far, far too perfect for his unworthy hands. 

The ring weighed heavily in his jacket pocket, almost as heavily as the knowledge that this moment would determine the rest of his life. He slipped his gloved hand into his pocket, in what he hoped was a casual manner, and began to toy with the ring box as he fought to speak through the lump in his throat. His pulse was pounding in his ears; his heart was beating so fast he could hardly breathe. He had rehearsed this moment a thousand times and now, when he needed them, his words failed him. 

“Christine… I…” Erik began in a shaky voice. “I know I cannot give you much.” He paused, licking his dry lips before continuing. “But if I could, I would give you everything the world has to offer.” 

Christine set her book down on her lap, thoroughly confused when Erik began to pace back and forth in front of her. “You know I love you, _mon ange._ Nothing in the world could change that. Not now… Not ever. Yet, I know you deserve so much more than me… So much more.”

“Oh, Erik, I—“ She began, reaching out to him to stop his pacing but he cut her off.

“Do not talk, just listen. I know you deserve more than me, my love. But Erik is selfish, you see. He knows he cannot possible deserve your love but he wants it, anyway.” He turned to face her with beseeching eyes. “I can give you things too, though. I know it is not much but I can give you my music. I will compose the grandest symphonies, more beautiful than anything the world has ever known, all for you, my dear. I can make your heart soar… Your song soar. I can make you the most beloved _prima donna_ to ever grace the stage. Although, admittedly, you do not need my help for that.” He smiled to himself and continued, “I can give you my possessions. Everything you see here, it is yours. My house… My money… Everything. But, Christine, most importantly, I can give you love.” He sank to his knees in front of her. “I can give you enough love to keep you warm for the rest of your days. I will treasure you, protect you, and do everything in my power to please you all out of love. I will love you constantly until I have breathed my last. And I know… I know my body isn’t much but Christine… You can have that, too. Everything that is mine, it is yours, should you choose to take it.” 

“Erik—“ Christine began again, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears at his heartfelt words but he shook his head. Slowly, he pulled one of his hands out of hers and reached for his pocket and the ring inside, ignoring, to the best of his ability, Christine’s shocked gasp when she realized what he was doing. That sweet little voice of hers made his heart flutter in his chest every time he heard it. 

“I have tried and tried to imagine life without you but I cannot. If I lose you again, I will go mad so please… Please, do not leave me again. I need you here with me, more than I’ve ever needed anything before. I know I should not even think myself worthy to so much as ask for your hand… But, Christine, would you—“ He paused and cleared his throat, all the while keeping his gaze carefully trained on the ring that he held in his hand. “Would you do me the honor of being my bride?”

Hardly daring to breathe, he glanced up once more at the woman sitting in front of him. She raised her hand over her mouth in shock and then, although he could see tears forming in her eyes, she smiled. Did he dare to hope? Could she truly be happy? 

The passing seconds each seemed to hold an eternity as Erik waited for Christine’s response to his proposal. His heart pounded relentlessly against his ribs, his lungs were refusing to work properly. His pulse was beating so loudly in his ears that he almost missed it when she whispered, “Yes.” 

“Y-yes?” He managed to stutter, not believing he had heard her correctly. There was no possible way she could have said yes. Not even the slightest chance. But her answer had sounded suspiciously close to one of consent. 

“Yes.” She murmured again, erasing all his doubts and fears with one word. “Oh, Erik, yes! One thousand times yes!”

Was it truly possible?

His hands shook unbidden as he slid the ring onto her finger of her right hand. Everything seemed like a daze to Erik… _She couldn’t have said yes… She could not have said yes… Why did she say yes..? But she said yes. She said yes. Yes, yes, yes. She said yes._

Her sweet giggle drew him out of his trance and pulled his eyes back to her. She was so breathtaking, his Christine. When she was happy, she was an angel and when she laughed, the heavens themselves laughed with her. He openly gazed up at her from his position on his knee, her delicate hand clasped is his, awed and complete and utterly dumbfounded that this perfect woman had chosen him. There was not a man in the world who could have deserved her love yet he had it. He had it all and he was so sorely undeserving of it. But she _had said yes._

“Erik…” Her eyes shone in happiness, the corners of them tilted up ever so slightly in her smile. She giggled again and brought her left hand up to her mouth to stifle that pure, sweet sound. If he had the chance, Erik would have composed one million songs just to capture the light of that smile and bottle it up forever so he could always hear it. Her happiness seemed to sing-- a pure, sweet note that filled his being to the brim and threatened to lift him off the ground like wings. 

“Oh, Erik…” She laughed again and he brought her hand to his unworthy lips, kissing it so lightly, ever so lightly. 

“What is it, my love?” He asked.

The ring sparkled in the light and he turned his attention back to it, studying it. He had saved up for years for this and looked and looked and looked until he found the right one. It had to be perfect for his angel; she deserved nothing less than the best. Now, its thin, gold band encircled her slim finger in all its simple complexity that had earlier fascinated Erik so much. The ring was engraved with small designs all around it, small, interwoven lines and patterns that served no real purpose other than something to draw the eye to but something about them had just seemed so right at the time. Nestled in the middle was a beautiful diamond, clear and sharp, placed in between two small pearls that practically glowed in the faint light. It was a beautiful ring and it had cost Erik a fortune but it had been worth it to see the happiness on his fiancée’s face. 

“You put it on the wrong hand. The ring goes on the left hand, _cheri._ ” She finished with another little titter and Erik felt the heat rising to his cheeks beneath his mask. Of course, it was the left hand! He had known that it was the left hand! How could he have forgotten? Now, he had gone and ruined this tender moment between them. _Well done, indeed._

“I’m sorry,” he muttered awkwardly, moving the ring off her finger as he took her left hand in place of her right. “I knew it was the left hand, you see,” he began as he slid the ring onto its rightful position, “But I forgot somehow, _mon cherie._ I don’t know how because I knew, I truly did but it must have slipped my mind…” After the ring was righted, he continued to hold her warm hand, running his fingers over hers, tracing the lines and patterns on her palm and wrist. 

“It’s fine, _ma cheri,_ ” she replied, with another soft laugh and, despite his own embarrassment, Erik felt his heart constrict at the sound. “I found it amusing. Do not worry yourself over it.” With light fingers, she stroked his hands in return. She pulled off his gloves with ease and took his hands in her own when she felt how cold they were. 

After a short pause, she asked, “Did you think I would say yes?” 

“I… I was not sure.” He paused and then, shook his head, taking back the answer. “Well, no. I did not think you would say yes. I dreamed over and over that you would but it only seemed a possibility in dreams, not reality. I hardly dared to let myself believe that you really could possibly…” His eyes flickered shut and he squeezed her hands. “Could possibly love me. It all seemed too good to be true. It still does.” 

His eyes snapped open and he stood shakily, gently pulling Christine’s hands to urge her up as well. “Thank you, _mon amour._ Words cannot describe how thankfully I am for your love. I… I never…” He stopped suddenly as she stood to meet him. 

Christine pretended to not notice the tears in his eyes as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “It’s all right, Erik,” she said, as she began to stroke his thin hair to stop his shaking. He was overcome with emotions at present; far too much happiness, shock, and bewilderment for him to handle. 

After a few moments, he pulled away from her. “Thank you, Christine,” he sighed, moving one hand up to brush her cheek. The skin of his palm was cool against her warm cheek but it felt pleasant all the same. Mirroring his actions, Christine reached up and cupped his good cheek, pulling his gaze down to her. His eyes flickered down from her own to her lips, making her blush. She doubted Erik had even meant to focus his attention there, or, at least, had not meant for her to see it. After all, her poor fiancé (he _was_ her fiancé now) was so starved for physical affection, kisses included. 

The hand on her cheek moved slowly, clumsily down to her lips, sweeping a hesitant thumb across them, imitating a kiss. Christine’s eyes fluttered shut and after a moment, she realized this was his way of asking for a kiss; he was far too shy to speak the words himself. He had told her before that he had never been kissed by anyone before her, not even his mother. This was uncharted territory for him—strange and somewhat invasive, but, oh, so desirable. All his life, he must have endured the sights of other couples touching and loving, other _normal_ couples, always taunting him with the knowledge that he could never have what they so easily took for granted. 

Opening her eyes, she took his hand in her own, stopping his wandering fingers so she could talk to him. “Erik,” she began awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to ask him what his intents were. “Do you want to…?” She cleared her throat. “Do you want to kiss me?” The last few words came out rushed and quiet, so much so that she doubted he had heard or understood her. 

His pale face turned as red as a ripe tomato. So, he had heard. His lips moved but no sound came out, save for a spluttering gasp. 

“You can.” Christine whispered, smiling at his reaction. “You can kiss me, if you’d like.” There was so much more she wanted to say but she could not seem to find the words to do so. She wanted to tell him that, not only did she not mind his affection, she wanted it. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to redeem their last kiss, the one she had forced upon him as she fought to save Raoul’s life. She wanted to tell him that she wished to give him all the things that a normal couple could have, all the things he had observed in silent agony his whole life, and that she would make him feel loved until the end of their days. That she would fill the cold, gaping hole in his heart with warmth and happiness and never leave him alone. That he would never have to be alone again. But somehow, none of these things made it farther than swiftly spun-together thoughts. Perhaps she would find the words to tell him later, in this new eternity he had promised her. 

“May I?” His eyes filled with child-like excitement. “May I truly kiss you? Would you not be repulsed by touch?” He finished with a note of sorrow and the light faded from his eyes as he began to doubt the sincerity of her words. Throughout his life, the world had shown him no reason to believe her. 

“No!” She said, louder than she intended to. She sighed and lowered her voice to a normal volume. “Erik, I love you. Your touch does not disgust me, nor will it ever. Have I not done enough to show you that?”

He shook his head and she could tell he was ashamed for having confessed his doubts. But despite how much he upset her when he questioned her love for him, she could understand why he did it. It made sense to her why he constantly asked if she accepted his touch, although she had told him a thousand times over that she always would. He had never been given much affection, her poor Erik, nor had he been allowed to show much, either. His mother had rejected his kisses, his father had run from his hugs, and even in his adult life, men had refused to shake his hand. This new reality of another’s care, love, and touch was hard for him to accept without doubt.

“Of course, Christine. Of course, you have.” Erik began to play absently with the cuff of his jacket as he spoke again. “Your Erik fears that he is a foolish and ungrateful man for asking such questions when he already knows the answers. He is very sorry, you know, and hopes you will forgive him for being so doubting.” 

When she had made it clear that she forgave him, he asked her the same question once more. “May I truly kiss you then, _mon chou?”_

There was such desire in his voice, such hope and timidity that she smiled. “Please do. I am yours to kiss for eternity, now.” 

Upon hearing this, he cupped her chin and carefully tilted her mouth up to his until they were so close that she could feel his shallow breath against her lips. As he tipped his head down to hers, Christine whispered, “I love you,” in a hope to encourage him further. 

Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt a feather-light touch brush against her lips—hardly even a kiss. Then, his hand urged her chin up once more and she felt the same soft touch of his lips, this time lingering a second longer. In truth, her poor Erik had no idea how to instigate a kiss but he was trying so hard, she could not bring herself to draw away. His whole body was trembling with longing and she could not imagine the full extent of what the invitation of her touch, her love was doing for him. 

His hand changed position, cupping her chin fully, and he kissed her again but this time, he did not pull away from her immediately. Instead, he let his lips linger on hers in such a light, timid display of affection that she felt unbidden tears prick at her closed lids. This was the man she loved most in the world and they were going to be married! With their love, they were going to build a new reality, a world existing between just the two of them. A world full of music, to scare away the darkness, and love, to beat away the fear. 

Her body thrummed with sweet warmth as she stepped back from him, gazing up into his masked face with love. His eyes had never showed so much contentment as they did then, with her, standing there in front of him, the engagement ring sparkling on her finger. 

Slowly, ready to stop at any moment, Christine reached up and ran her fingers along Erik’s mask, a silent plea for him to remove it. She hated that he wore the thing all the time; he did not need to hide from her. She had accepted him fully. Did he not see that? She loved him, mind and body, face included. 

His eyes lost their peaceful haze as he realized what she was doing. Try as he might, he could never hide the panic he felt whenever she sought to remove his mask. In her, he saw the horror of his mother, the disgust of his father, the repulsion of the world. There was no way to forget what he was, even under her loving gaze. But, all fear aside, his mask was not altogether comfortable, despite all the modifications he had made to it so that it might fit his face as naturally as possible. Moreover, he loved the feeling of her soft hands on his mangled flesh, although some deep instinct told him that it was wrong for him to let her feel such a horror under her angelic fingertips. Internally chastising himself, he attempted to shoved down the instinct, reassuring himself that it was her who wanted him to remove his mask, not himself. If the choice had been left up to him, he would have kept the mask on all the time, to retain what little dignity and beauty he still had in Christine’s eyes. But, unfortunately, love demanded sacrifice and he knew he must comply. 

Erik inclined his head slightly, acquiescing to her request, and his fiancée pulled it off of him before he could change his mind. A sharp clatter resounded through the underground house, echoing off the lake, as the mask fell unceremoniously to the ground. He felt her soft, hesitant touch on his ravaged flesh, making him sigh in content once more as his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, as she continued to brush her fingers over his terrible face. All his nerves were set aflame by her touch, all defenses dulled. He felt the cool of her new engagement ring brush against his face and smiled. Soon, Christine—his Christine, whom he loved more dearly than he had ever loved himself—was to be his wife! It would be trying at times, he knew, and perhaps even painful, but he was more than ready to face what lay ahead of them in their new life together. It would be worth it to love, and to be loved by her—his Christine. Her love had taught him, bit by bit, that he was able to be redeemed, so long as he had a redeemer to pull him towards the light. 

His gaze sought the sparkle of the diamond on her ring finger once more and he smiled, overcome by the thought that someday soon, they would be married. Quietly—reverently, he added, “I love you, Christine.”

“Love you, too,” she said and planted a kiss on his chin.

**Author's Note:**

> Mon ange: 'My angel'  
> Ma cherie/mon cheri: 'My dear/my dearie'  
> Mon amour: 'My love"  
> Mon chou: 'Sweetie' or, quite literally, 'my cabbage.' I prefer to think Erik is calling Christine 'his cabbage.'


End file.
